


She's Never Been One to Stay At Home

by QuickedWeen



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Arranged Marriage, Captain Louis Tomlinson, Crossdressing, Damsels in Distress, F/F, Inspired by Pirates of the Caribbean, Kidnapping, Lady Pirates, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:34:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25691374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickedWeen/pseuds/QuickedWeen
Summary: Harry Styles is the daughter of the governor in Port Royal, and a mysterious band of pirates is terrorizing the town.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 104
Collections: Prompt 5.4: Board





	She's Never Been One to Stay At Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by the beginning of the first Pirates movie. Harry is Elizabeth Swan, but Louis is anything but Captain Jack haha.
> 
> Title from the song Téir Abhaile Riú.
> 
> This is part of a Wordplay prompt challenge for the prompt "board". To read the amazing fics that were written by the others on this prompt, [click here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/board), and to see all fics written as part of the challenge (including years 1-3), [click here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/wordplay_fic_challenge/works). You can also find the masterpost for this year’s challenge [here](https://wordplayfics.tumblr.com/post/622306139518926848/wordplay-2020-every-week-for-five-weeks-a-prompt).

Miss Harriet Styles looked out over the harbor. The water was glistening in the midday sun, and the gulls flew overhead diving down every once in a while to scoop a fish up in their beaks and cart it off for a hearty meal.

She wished she could fly like they could. All she wanted to do was open her wings and let the wind take her.

“Harriet!” her father called from next to the carriage. They were only down at the docks because he was expecting a large shipment from England, but they were also invited to a society luncheon so she was forced to come along.

“Coming, father!” she called back towards him. She took one last look at the crystal blue water, rolling her eyes, before turning back around.

As she took a moment to gather her skirts, movement near one of the ships caught her eye. There was a small group of young men traipsing around the dock laughing and joking amongst themselves. They all wore breeches, loose linen shirts, and grey caps dusty and worn out from the salty air.

They were young sailors, probably crewing a vessel that was tied at the pier.

None of them saw Harry as they drew closer to her, but she watched them. They were rough-housing amongst themselves, and one of the boys pulled on the other hard enough that his cap flew off and his shift came loose. The angle was just right, lined up perfectly so that Harry caught the barest glimpse of a bare breast through the gaping neckline. At the same time the “boy’s” plait fell down out of place where it was presumably tucked up into the cap.

Harry gasped. She was a woman.

All of their heads turned with the noise and the other boys quickly closed ranks around the other until he—she—popped up composed again.

As Harry studied them, she realized they were _all_ women. Every last one of them. She lifted her hand to her lips in shock.

They reached the end of the dock and most of them avoided eye contact with her as they rushed on, but the one who had been found out stopped short.

She bowed like a man would, deferential to Harry who was standing there in her luncheon finery.

“My lady,” she said. “Apologies for the reprehensible behaviour of my men.”

Harry studied her for a minute. She was keeping up the charade.

“You’re the captain, then?”

The woman paused in surprise but nodded. “Aye. Captain Louis Tomlinson, at your service.” She touched her hand to her cap. “And to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?”

Harry hesitated. She could feel her father’s rath growing at her delay from all the way back at the carriage. “Miss Harriet Styles.”

Captain Tomlinson’s mouth quirked up. “That wouldn’t be Styles as in Governor Styles, would it?”

“My father,” she replied curtly.

“Well, then,” Captain Tomlinson said, chastened. “I’d best be on my way.”

She turned away from Harry before thinking better of it. “You know, Miss Styles, I hear there are pirates in nearby waters.” She looked out to sea the same way Harry had earlier. “You’d best be keeping a watchful eye ere you lay your head down to sleep.”

Harry hesitated again. It was an ominous thing to say. “I’ll take that under advisement,” she replied as haughtily as she could to make it clear she wasn’t afraid of any such thing.

Of course there were pirates nearby, it was the Caribbean, there were always pirates. Plus, up in her father’s household she was guarded by the best soldiers on the island.

Captain Tomlinson winked at her before taking off to join her friends.

Harry let out a heavy breath. She had never met a female pirate before. She didn’t even know there _were_ female pirates.

Over the course of her life she had always been a bit fascinated by pirates, she had a nanny that told her stories of the scourge of the high seas, and the freedom of the open ocean. She didn’t experience it for herself until they sailed across the world so her father could take up his post as governor.

“Harriet!”

Harry startled and walked briskly back to the carriage—in as ladylike a fashion as possible. “Sorry, sorry.”

Her father eyed her suspiciously. “Who was that you were talking to?”

Harry blanched. “Oh, just a group of young sailors. They were lost.”

“How lost could they be, they just need to walk away from the water,” her father sneered.

Shame settled deep in Harry’s abdomen, and she didn’t say anything else.

“Well,” her father said as he helped Harry climb into the carriage and then lifted himself up after her. “There’s a band of pirates terrorizing soldiers in nearby waters. They’ve eluded capture from the Admiral so far, but he should have them in hand any day now.”

They were going to Admiral Fitzwallace’s home for their luncheon.

“Whatever you do, don’t mention them while we’re dining. You need to make a good impression.”

For the past week or so, her mother and father kept implying that this luncheon was vastly important to Harry. As a twenty-three year old, unmarried woman—practically a spinster—she didn’t have to be Nostradmus to understand what they intended to do.

She was about to meet her future husband, and she could only pray it wasn’t the Admiral himself.

When they arrived her mother and sister were already there, having come from Gemma’s home nearby. They greeted each other warmly and were brought in to be seated in the Admiral’s grand dining room. It wasn’t nearly so grand as their own, but it was quite nice.

There was a handsome gentleman sitting on their host’s right. The Admiral—a widower—had two sons that Harry knew of, and given her own status and age she could only guess that this was the eldest of the two.

Their meal was ornate, they were definitely showing off, and it looked like the men were having a wonderful time. For Harry’s part, her mother and sister only kicked her under the table a few times to get her to pay attention so she supposed that was an improvement.

Harry couldn’t help it, she hated to be cooped up, bound in her torturous stays. She wanted to be out on the water, feel the breeze, the movement of the waves.

But no one ever let her sail with them anymore, lest she—the delicate flower—break and disintegrate. Then where would her father be politically?

After their meal, her mother suggested they take their tea out on the terrace and engineered it so that Harry was sitting with the son.

Lt. Commander Alder Fitzwallace was pleasant, Harry supposed. If a little dull. He seemed the strong silent type, but possibly a little too silent. They made polite conversation for a while before quiet fell between them.

“I believe they wish to make a match of us,” he said softly.

“I know,” Harry replied.

He was at least ten years older than her, and if Harry had to guess, his parents were forcing him to find a wife because it had been long enough. Politically, if he wanted to advance in the Navy it would look good for him to have a wife.

The long and short of it was, Harry didn’t want to be married. At all. She couldn’t stand the idea, it made her skin itch and crawl with distaste and her whole body recoil.

But she couldn’t stay with her parents forever. Maybe, if she married him he would let her sail with him. It was the least offensive offer she was going to get in so limited a society.

“What do you say? Shall I get the chance to ask you before they force you into it?”

It wasn’t exactly the romance of legends, but she supposed it would have to do.

She sighed and forced herself to smile politely. “Very well.”

“Splendid,” he replied.

Silence fell again.

They sat there for a few more minutes until her mother came to rescue her. It wasn’t until they were all loaded back in the carriage that her parents broached the subject.

“Harriet,” her mother started.

“I know, mother,” Harry said heavily. “He and I have already come to an agreement amongst ourselves.”

Lady Styles clasped her hands together in excitement. “Oh, wonderful!” She was elated, glowing with it. “Darling did you hear that? Both girls married, finally.”

“Yes, dear,” her father replied drily. Harry could tell he had already moved on to business arrangements in his head.

Fantastic.

A month later, Harry was standing at the church in her wedding finery alone and married.

For all of society’s focus on marriage, she didn’t feel any different. Was she supposed to?

Once again, she found herself standing in the midday sun staring out to sea only this time she was up on the hill above town at the church. Her husband had been called away on urgent business already. If she were any normal sort of bride, she might say it didn’t bode well for their marriage. Harry just felt… relief.

All of the men that were in attendance took off in a rush, so she was left with her mother and sister, and all of the rest of feminine society. There had been some sort of threat lobbied against the port, so they were all told to go back to their homes and sit tight.

Many hours later, she was still in her wedding gown. Trapped. In her parents’ home.

It was all quite awkward because most of her belongings had already been packed for her to go to her _husband’s_ new estate gifted to them by her father. Her belongings meaning her other gowns. She had nothing to put on, so she continued to wear the gown from the ceremony. The stays were for show which meant they were even tighter than usual, and all in all she was miserable.

Darkness fell, twilight seeping across the landscape as Harry watched the commotion in town. _Something_ was happening but it was impossible to tell what, and they had received no word.

That was when she saw three horsemen dressed in black coming towards the house.

Harry gasped and ran as fast as she could down the stairs to where her mother was waiting in the sitting room. She called out for her as she flew down the staircase, and reached her just as the footman went to open the front door—presumably having heard the hoofbeats.

“No!” Harry screamed. But it was too late.

The masked figures approached them and quickly apprehended them. Their worn gloves were rough on Harry’s forearms as one of them gripped her tightly.

“Which one of you is the governor’s daughter?” the voice was gravely and rough.

Harry stayed defiantly quiet, as did her mother. She refused to make eye contact with her if only to keep her resolve.

Then, one of them pressed a dagger against her throat.

Her heart rate picked up, and her skin felt too tight for her body. All she focused on was the cool steel against her neck.

“What do you want with his daughter?” she bit out.

The masked figure pushed the sharp edge deeper. The slight sting she felt indicating they had broken the delicate skin there. “She’ll fetch a pretty penny. By the looks of it, I’d say you’ll be his daughter. Lush as you are.”

Harry struggled as violently as she could against the hold the bandit had on her as her mother whimpered through the hand covering her mouth.

The bandits began to cart her off but she demanded they at least let her say goodbye. She refused to show them any sort of tears, but her mother had no such qualms, holding her so tightly that the pins in her hair that hadn’t already come loose finally did.

They brought her out to the drive and the one who had been holding her loaded her up into the saddle before mounting the horse himself and spurring it forward.

She was draped carelessly and improperly so she bounced around as they rode back through the town. No alarm had been raised, but there was some other commotion—whatever her new husband and father had been called away for earlier—so it took the soldiers too long to notice something was amiss. By the time they realized she was already being lifted and thrown into a dinghy, the horses abandoned on the dock.

Her captors were silent as they rode as Harry sat there teetering between fuming and feeling resigned to her fate.

She could only imagine the suffering her family and new husband were going through back on land. With any luck they would pay the ransom and be done with this business soon enough.

She knew she was being optimistic. As they climbed aboard, they stayed silent amongst themselves so Harry could glean no clues as to their identity, motive, or intention.

When they reached the deck, her captors faded into the night. Only the moonlight illuminated the polished wood, but the moon was full so Harry could see everything.

The whole crew had come to a standstill, and they were all watching her.

Her gaze darted around quickly eyeing their soft linen tunics, breeches, and beautiful silk scarves. They were… they were all _women_.

“What—?”

Her hands were still tied behind her back but one of her captors—who had now removed her mask to reveal a long onyx plait—untied her very gently.

“I’m sorry about how rough we were,” she said softly as she stepped away from Harry to join the crew. “The cap’n should be out here in a moment.”

“Here I am,” a voice called. Harry spun around to see that from the captain’s quarters emerged… Captain Tomlinson?

“You,” Harry breathed.

Captain Louis Tomlinson started, clearly surprised. Harry suspected she wasn’t surprised too often, and felt a sliver of satisfaction curl in her belly.

“Well, well, well. Welcome aboard, Miss Styles,” Captain Tomlinson bowed. “How lovely to see you again.”

“If only it were under better circumstances,” Harry drolled. Instinctively she grimaced at her own rudeness. _Sarcasm was not ladylike_. Her governess’ voice turned over in her mind.

The captain laughed from low in her throat.

“I truly am sorry, but we’ve learned this way is best. Raises the least amount of questions, if you would believe it.”

Harry still wasn’t sure what was happening. “What exactly is going on here?”

“Well, my lady, this here is recruitment.”

“Recruitment?” Harry was still confused.

“Aye,” the captain nodded. “We bring you here and offer you a simple choice. If your father pays the ransom and you don’t want to join us, we take the money, bring you home and we all move on without lives.”

That gave Harry pause. Her heart was beating out of her chest as some thirty-odd women stared at her.

She thought about the vows she had made before God just that morning. Her new husband, the boring lieutenant commander who may or may not eventually let her sail with him.

As she took in the beautiful dip and curve of the ship’s rail and the care the crew clearly took in maintaining her.

“And what, precisely, would joining you entail?”

The captain smirked, and Harry knew what her path was.

The announcement of Miss Harry Styles’ death at the hands of her captors a few days later rocked the island.

Or, Harry thought it might. She didn’t much care one way or the other.

She would miss her family, her brand new nephew and all the little nieces and nephews to come. There were children on the ship, though. Some of the women had children before they joined the crew, some had children out of wedlock after particularly interesting trips ashore. It didn’t matter.

One of the best parts about living on the ship was that everyone had their own job to do, everyone had their own place.

Physical labor was new to Harry, she didn’t dislike it, but she knew she was going to be sore for the next few months at least while her muscles got used to it.

The captain had a special balm she rubbed on her at the end of the day that helped. Harry couldn’t deny the warmth that settled in her veins every time the captain laid her hands on her skin. She was already contemplating how long she might get away with crying sore muscles if only to bask in the special attention.

It also didn’t take long for Harry to find her own place. When she was introduced to the handful of children aboard—ranging in age from infant to about eight or nine—she noticed they were being minded by the cook. A woman who was already overworked with the amount of mouths she had to feed day in and day out.

One evening at the end of her first week aboard, Harry broached the subject with the captain.

“I think the children need a governess.”

Louis was at the helm, almost ready to give it up for the night. “Oh?”

“And Rebecca could use a break.”

Louis laughed. Harry loved to hear her laugh. “That’s very true. The food might even improve.”

The very next day, she and the children were sitting around the mast as she taught them their letters. The breeze ruffled her unkempt hair, and the soft cotton of her shirt billowed with it, lifting away from her bare skin.

They were nearing their next destination and Harry caught sight of a gull as it soared above them.

She had never felt so free.


End file.
